


Daylight Through Darkness

by AerinnGwen



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-04
Updated: 2014-04-04
Packaged: 2018-01-18 03:56:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,201
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1414186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AerinnGwen/pseuds/AerinnGwen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The past always has a cruel way of catching up with the present. A year ago, she would have rather been fed to Aragog than to trust Malfoy. However, in a place where danger lurks in every corner, Draco is her only choice. He then realises that there's more to everything, including Hermione, than meets the eye.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

It has been four months since the second wizarding war ended. Four months since The Boy Who Lived defeated the Dark Lord or, dare anyone say it, Voldemort. Four months since Aurors, students, professors of Hogwarts, members of The Order and, most importantly, The Golden Trio fought in the biggest battle known in wizarding history. Four months since loved ones were lost. Four months since things changed for the better and for the worse. It has been four _very_  long months.

It was raining heavily on a Sunday morning and below the clouds, a dark parade was being held. No, not Lord Voldemort sort of dark, but a rather gloomy and sad occasion. A funeral. To be more precise, the funeral of a Death Eater – Lucius Malfoy. In some cultures, the fall of rain during a funeral signifies the happiness of the deceased and that he is resting in peace. Other cultures however, believe that a single raindrop that falls during a funeral signifies the unhappiness of the deceased and the reluctance to let go.

To Draco Malfoy however, it meant nothing. Nothing at all.

In front of Draco was a casket and inside that casket was his father.  _Father_ , he repeated in his head. It was always father and never dad. That was how Draco regarded the man who raised him, if one could call that raising. He had never been close to his father and yet, he had the need to always please his father. It was like an unquenchable thirst that plagued him throughout his schooling years. Everything Draco did in Hogwarts was to gain his father's approval and to make Lucius proud.

In this moment however, those things were at the back of his mind.

Draco did not feel sadness for the death of the man that claimed to be his father.

Draco did not feel upset by the death of Lucius.

Draco simply felt numb.

Lucius was killed by none other than the killing curse. It happened before it was time for his trial in front of the Wizengamot. The green spark came from the wand belonging to a Voldemort supporter and hit Lucius square in the chest. Perhaps the murderer saw Lucius as a blood traitor as he didn't fight for the Dark Lord in the end, or perhaps, Lucius was simply despised by everyone and this one person took it upon himself to finish off Lucius. The latter was more probable to Draco.

Draco and Narcissa on the other hand had their trial three months after the war and their punishment did not involve the word Azkaban. Narcissa was sentenced to one year of probation while Draco only received half of that as he was still young and the Wizengamot gave him a second chance. Being on probation meant no use of magic, surprise visits by representatives from the Ministry, as well as the fact that their whereabouts must be made known to the Ministry among other things. Lucky him.  _At least he wasn't on house arrest_ , he thought to himself.

Of course Narcissa's sentence was influenced by the fact that she lied to The Dark Lord to save Harry Potter albeit it was only done for her best interest – her son. Also taken into account was the fact that she never took the Dark Mark but married a man who did.

The rain kept falling and beside Draco, sat Narcissa Malfoy in black robes. Though it was a funeral, Narcissa still looked elegant and proud. She held her head high and sat with one leg over the other exposing her black heels sticking out beneath her robes. She kept her posture straight and stiff, but Draco knew better.

The little things she did betrayed her hard exterior. The slight quivering of her lips every once in awhile, and the excessive blinking were one of those few things that punched a huge hole straight through her facade. She also shivered and it was not due to the rain, as a spell was casted to keep everything and everyone within a mile's radius dry.

Narcissa Malfoy was not okay.

Heck, she was far from okay.

The man that was currently giving a speech made Lucius sound as innocent as Longbottom's toad, and Draco did nothing but rolled his eyes at the man. Narcissa on the other hand let out a small sob and clung onto every word the man said and nodded in agreement. However rude this may be, Draco didn't feel like being here. He wanted to return to the Manor and try to live a normal life or rather, a life as normal as he could possibly manage.

Draco looked around trying to busy himself with something more entertaining than the man that stood before him that spewed words coated in insincerity. Around him were other people who made an effort to come – whether or not due to obligation, or simply because they wanted to. Some of them were from Malfoy Industries while others were close family friends such as the family of Parkinson, Zabini and Nott. They all dressed in similar black robes. However, none stood out as elegantly as his mother did.

Everything was green around Draco. He scanned his surroundings and to his dismay, all he saw was the grass and trees, as well as that mount of dirt that would bury his father. He looked up at the sky and frowned. Draco saw what seemed like fireworks outside the cemetery that were in deep contrast to the clouds that hung above him.

Someone was definitely celebrating his father's death.

"Bloody fireworks," he muttered under his breath as he tore his eyes away from the flashing lights. He scanned the area another five times and sighed inwardly.

Draco found nothing worthy of his time and settled down a little more into the chair he was sitting on. Draco felt his mind wandering and soon he began thinking about the will Lucius Malfoy wrote. Malfoy Industries now belonged to Draco. So did the entire Malfoy fortune, as well as the Malfoy Manor. Draco could just sit back and relax. He could grow old without the need to earn another Galleon. His thoughts drifted further and further away from the current situation until a small movement behind the trees on his right snapped him back into reality.

Draco blinked his eyes and focused on the tress to find the culprit who forced his mind from drifting. Surely, no one was cruel enough to cause havoc during a funeral.  _No one could be that heartless_ , Draco thought to himself. Draco unconsciously gripped his wand that was tucked into his robes. Always be prepared, he told himself. It was a phrase he grew up with and it was engraved into his memory. He looked harder as the movements behind the trees became less subtle.

Though he could not clearly see the face of the culprit, he noticed the hair.

Dark brown and slightly less bushy than it usually was. It could only belong to one person. A smirk played at his lips. Draco finally found his source of entertainment.

_Granger_.

* * *

Hermione Granger was, and still is, that girl who is always sure of her every move. Her entire being was governed by reasoning and logic. Emotions were things she just felt, but rarely played a role in her decision making. Hermione Jean Granger, the brilliant muggle born, the brains of The Golden Trio.

She was pacing outside the gates of a private cemetery and she knew exactly what was going on inside. However, she didn't know what people would make of her presence today. Perhaps it was a rash decision to even come here. Hermione continued pacing.

Eight steps, stop, turn. Eight steps, stop, turn.

Her pacing earned her a few strange glances as the sight of one of the war heroes pacing in such a place was as strange as having Snape sprout another head before your very eyes.

Hermione decided to come out here without the influence of her emotions. Perhaps a hint of it, but it was only a very small part compared to everything else. Yes, Gryffindor's Golden Girl decided to attend the funeral of a well known Death Eater. She came without Harry and Ron's knowledge for a very good reason. The both of them would have turned this funeral upside down and danced on Lucius's grave. Perhaps not Harry, but definitely Ron.

She knew they couldn't and wouldn't see logic, and only thought of Lucius as an inhumane blood thirsty Death Eater. Hermione did not deny that he was a cruel and vile man, but she was here to pay her respects to Narcissa and Malfoy. The latter had lied about their identity when they were caught and for that she was thankful.

She stopped pacing and walked straight into the cemetery. She made up her mind in the morning and she was not backing out now. Hermione Granger was not a coward. The first step she took was rather heavy, but each step got lighter and lighter and before she knew it, she stormed down the lane like it was the most natural thing to do.

As she walked, she suddenly felt something graze her legs and she jumped. She managed to muffle her shriek with her hands and turned around. Behind her was a ginger cat – much like Crookshanks, staring up at her as if she was lost. Well she was lost, in a way. Hermione didn't belong here.  _Don't they keep stray cats out of private cemeteries_ , she thought to herself. Ignoring the cat, she continued walking towards the funeral procession, looking for a familiar face in the crowd. Perhaps someone from the Ministry was here.

She held her breath at the first thing she saw.

Grey eyes.

Oh, Merlin. Draco Malfoy was staring back at her. His eyes bored holes into her head and her feet were rooted to the spot when she saw his expression change from bored to utterly amused.

* * *

Draco whispered something to his mother and excused himself. He marched up Granger and he smiled to himself. He cleared his throat as he neared. The look on her faced morphed into something that he couldn't decipher. She groaned in frustration and stared as he approached.

"Granger," Draco began as his smile was replaced by a mask of indifference.

"Malfoy," she greeted.

"Are you lost? Or did you come to get hexed? Because if it's the latter, you could march right on. But I'd advise you to leave," he said. She obviously didn't belong here. There were at least ten people at the funeral who would have hexed her into oblivion if they saw her.  _I didn't save you during the war to have you get hexed to death here_ , he added silently.

"I'm just here to pay my respects, Malfoy."

"Surprisingly, I don't find that hard to believe, but it's probably not the best place for you to pay your respects, Granger."

She stared into his grey eyes and saw nothing. No emotions playing behind his arrogant facade. Hollow.

"I.. Right. You're probably right," she said. Malfoy wasn't being a complete git and for some reason, she trusted his words.

"I'm sorry for your loss, Malfoy. Send your mother my condolences," she said with an empathetic smile. She turned around and Disapparated with a pop before Draco could even mutter a word.

_Good_ , he thought to himself. At least she had a sense of self preservation because he wasn't kidding when he said ten people would hex her if she made her presence known.

He really didn't save her just so she could die from hexes.

He made his way back to his mother and thought about how he repelled a killing curse that nearly hit her during the war in Hogwarts. Of course, she didn't know he was the one who blocked the curse.

It was that moment where he realised that being a Muggle-born did not make her inferior. She fought alongside Pure-bloods and she matched their skills. If not, she exceeded them. She made it known that being Muggle-born did not render her magical abilities useless.

It was that moment where Draco finally realised that he wanted nothing more than to have Voldemort killed that night. Most importantly, it was that moment where he finally let go of the beliefs that he was brought up with. Of course, he never admitted that to anyone, especially not Granger. He was a Slytherin after all, and Slytherins have a reputation to maintain.

With that, he sat back down and tuned out his surroundings once again. Nothing was more boring than the funeral of a man he called father who turned out to be anything but that.


	2. Opened Wounds

Hermione pulled her maroon winter jacket closer to her body and shivered. The matching scarf around her neck and the black gloves she wore barely kept her warm. Though it was nearing the end of winter in Australia, the cool breeze and the lack of sunlight sent shivers down her spine. Besides the rustling of the wind, the sound of her boots against the pavement was the only other sound to be heard.

Tap tap tap.

Hermione, however, heard more than the sound of her boots in contact with the ground. If anything could drown out that sound, it would be the sound of her heartbeat.

Thud thud thud.

She could feel her heart beating hard against her chest. It was as though her thoracic cavity was shrinking and her lungs were swelling, leaving no room for her beating heart, causing it to hammer against her chest.

She pulled her winter jacket even closer hoping that if her heart pounded straight through her chest, the winter jacket would keep her heart in its place. As illogical as that may seem, especially to someone with her brains and intelligence, she hoped anyway.

Tap. Thud. Tap. Thud. Tap. Thud thud thud.

Her heartbeat grew louder with each step and before she knew it, the thudding of her heart was all she could hear. She didn't merely feel the cold air of August brushing her skin. Instead, she felt the coldness from within. Her insides were all over the place, much like her brain at the moment. Her legs felt like they were jelly, her knees felt like they were going to give way in a millisecond, and she didn't know how she still managed to put one foot in front of the other.

She was here in Australia. Hermione finally figured out how to reverse a certain memory charm. It took her quite some time to do her research and figure everything out.

She would have taken a shorter time had she had help from Harry and Ron, but this Gryffindor was stubborn. She refused any help on her research as she felt it was solely her duty to her parents. It didn't help that she was also preparing for her N.E.W.T.s at the same time.

However, all of those things were the excuses she came up with. There was only one reason at play – she was scared.

She wanted to buy more time so she could be more prepared when she explained everything to her parents.

So much for Gryffindor courage, she always muttered to herself when she was alone.

She remembered the amount of planning she did since the first day of this month to get her exactly where she stood today, in front of Wendell and Monica Wilkin's house. She got everything down to the last detail. She even penned her words on a nice parchment that was shrunk and tucked into her pocket. Obviously, the moment she saw her parents, she knew everything in that parchment was going to be as useless as Crabbe and Goyle.

She just liked telling herself otherwise.

She stared at the house and her heart took off on a high speed train.

_This is it_ , she thought to herself.

She took in the sight of the house and compared it to the first time she saw it about two years ago. The vines that grew around the garden fence still gave the house a country look. The grass looked greener than she remembered and it was well trimmed. Flowers were starting to blossom again. Calmness overwhelmed Hermione's body as she looked at the small cottage house that was painted a peach colour and marched up the pathway that led to the main door.

She stood in front of the main door and strained her ears.

Good, they were home.

Part of Hermione wanted to turn and run and go back to the Burrow to talk to Ginny, bake with Molly, watch the Weasley family play Quidditch and crack a joke or two with George. She'd even take a hex or two.

A bigger part however, knew that she had to do this even with the possibility of her parents being furious.  _But maybe they wouldn't even be furious_ , the little voice inside her head told her.

Well, if she never tried, she would never know. With that, she raised her hand and rang the doorbell.

* * *

Hermione stared into very familiar brown eyes as the front door opened. She opened her mouth to say something, anything, only to realise that her voice had taken a temporary leave. She snapped her mouth shut and pulled her lips into a small smile.

_Damn it, Hermione! Get it together_ , said the voice in her head.

She continued staring at the lady at the door.

Monica Wilkins.

Mother.

"May I help you?" said Monica with a very confused face.

Hermione continued staring at her mother for another ten seconds before she found her voice again. She cleared her throat and pursed her lips.

How was she going to do this? The little voice in her head started screaming. _Brains, Hermione! You've got it! Now use it._

"Uh, I was looking for uhm, Wendell and Monica Wilkins," Hermione muttered silently. She said it so quietly that she wondered if her mother even heard her.

"Well, you're at the right place."

So she did manage to hear what Hermione said.

"May I come in?" the younger Granger asked daringly.

Monica Wilkins studied the girl before her.

"I suppose so," Monica said warily as she stepped aside for Hermione to enter. It wasn't normal to allow a stranger into her house, but Monica felt like the brown-haired girl seemed very familiar.

Hermione entered the house and looked around. The sight of the house knocked the next breath out of her. The inside of the house was an exact replica of the house that belonged to the Grangers. Her heart, though still hammering in her chest, managed to slow down its pace a tad bit.

On the walls of the house were pictures of her parents. Of course it was the muggle kind of pictures. One was of them on a holiday in Switzerland. Hermione was there too, but Wendell and Monica had no recollection of that, obviously. Tears glistened her eyes. She didn't expect to feel so overwhelmed to be in their presence again.

It was funny, to be honest. She knew so much about Wendell and Monica Wilkins, but to them, she was just a stranger.

Well, that's about to change.

"You may have a seat on the couch while I get Wendell." Hermione heard the lovely singsong voice of her mother. She smiled a little and nodded as she made her way to the pale orange couch.

The living room was well furnished and was painted a light lilac colour. The bookshelves were filled in a somewhat organised manner. The books on the bookshelves happen to be the books Hermione enjoyed reading most. The entire living room was filled with even more pictures of her parents on different occasions. A grandfather clock by the corner of the room stood out. It was an antique. As its age doubled, so did its glamour.

Yes, the Grangers loved that grandfather clock.

Hermione sat on the couch and proceeded to mess with her hair. Or rather, she was trying to tame it but to her dismay, it didn't have the desired effect. She gave up after a few tries and started twisting the hems of her shirt. No doubt, she was the epitome of a damsel in distress. Only this time, there was no Prince Charming.

She heard footsteps approaching and told herself to breathe. The whole trip to Australia would be pointless if she died because she forgot to breathe. She turned around slowly and faced the entrance of the living room to see her father and mother engaging in their own conversation as they neared her.

* * *

After a brief introduction, they all sat down around the living room. Hermione's introduction to her parents was probably the shortest introduction she has ever made. Who in the entire world, both Muggle and wizard, needed to introduce themselves to their parents?

"So what brings you here, Hermione?" her father said. His words were laced with curiosity.

"Before I begin, I need to do something," Hermione started saying as she reached for something tucked beneath her winter jacket.

"Oh dear! How rude of me. You should take off your winter jacket. We have the heater turned on here," Monica said as she gestured to the heater in the living room.

Hermione just gawked at her mom and then she realised her actions must have looked like she was removing her winter jacket. Of course it was stuffy right now as the air in the house was nothing like the cold air outside, but that was the last thing on her mind.

She took out her wand and immediately pointed it at her parents.

" _Contrarium Retinentia,_ " Hermione said, pointing her wand at her parents' bewildered faces.

A jet of silver light escaped her wand and circled around her parents.

Please let this work. Please.

Her dad was first to speak up after a few seconds of looking dumbstruck.

"Hermione?" he asked.

"Dad? You remember me?" Hermione choked, unable to contain herself.

"What a silly question? Of course I remember my own daughter." Richard Granger laughed. "My my, you've only been in Hogwarts for a few months and here you are! You look like you've grown a whole lot," he continued excitedly as he stood to embrace his daughter. "It's not every day you see your daughter grow up into a mature young lady in a matter of months."

Tanya Granger beamed at the sight of her husband and daughter in such a tight embrace. Brown eyes met another pair of brown eyes. Hermione felt like she was lost in the moment. Her parents remembered her. The spell worked.

Then came the hard part.

Hermione needed to explain everything. As predicted, the darn parchment was as useless as Crabbe and Goyle. Mountain trolls proved to be more useful than that ridiculous piece of parchment at the moment. So much for writing down what she was going to say.

Hermione pulled herself away from her dad with tear filled eyes. She dried her tears on her winter jacket and proceeded to remove it.

"I have to tell you something." She looked at her parents with big brown eyes. Their expressions morphed into one filled with concern. Hermione took their silence as a sign to continue.

"It's August right now," she paused. "August 1999," Hermione said. The Grangers eyes doubled in size.

"I.. I used a memory charm on you two years ago before I left for Hogwarts. It was without your con–"

Tanya cut her off midsentence. "You what? Repeat yourself, Hermione Jean Granger."

"Mom, please. Please let me explain," Hermione pleaded. Her dad had a mask of indifference while her mom shot her a deadly glare. Hermione wasn't oblivious to the fact that her mom didn't enjoy having spells done in her house. She made a promise to them to never perform a spell on them and she did exactly that. It was no surprise that Tanya Granger was not amused.

Tanya crossed her arms across her chest and stared Hermione down.

Once again, Hermione took the silence as a sign for her to keep going.

"Remember I once told you about Voldemort? There was this prophecy and Harry was the one that was meant to kill him. One cannot live while the other survives, or something along those lines," Hermione started explaining. There was no need for gruesome details about the entire prophecy and what followed.

"Turns out, Voldemort made these." Hermione paused. Her parents didn't know what a horcrux was and she was thinking of the easiest way to explain it.

Her father raised his eyebrow expectantly while Tanya kept glaring at Hermione.

_Objects_ , yelled the voice in her head.

"These objects. Yes, objects. Voldemort managed to tear his soul and put it into certain objects. While these objects were still around, there was no way to kill Voldemort. Harry, Ron and I spent our seventh year hunting for these hor-uhm, I mean, objects. I knew we would be on the run and I had to protect you from Death Eaters. They're vicious, vile and murderous. They would have used you to get to me in order to get to Harry. I really couldn't risk it so, I altered your memories. All your memories of me were erased and I sent you here so they wouldn't find you. We're in Australia, by the way. We found these objects and started destroying them one at a time. We ended up in Hogwarts again where the biggest wizarding war took place," Hermione continued.

The couple in front of her dropped their jaws as their eyes bulged.

"What war?" Richard demanded.

Shit.

"Dad, let me explain. The war was inevitable. I chose to fight with Harry. You don't understand. If Voldemort won, I wouldn't even be here. They would have tortured me senseless till I was insane because of my heritage. I'm what they call a Mudblood. To them, I have tainted blood because I was born to Muggle parents. If they won, I would have died. After the war, I took my N.E.W.T.s and did lots of research on how to reverse the memory charm I did," Hermione pleaded as her lips quivered.

She couldn't stand thinking about the lives that were lost during the war. More importantly, she couldn't stand the thought of her parents being angry. Her dad's face softened a little, but her mom held the same expression throughout.

If looks could kill, Tanya Granger's glare would have killed ten Death Eaters and then some.

"Well, that's basically the gist of everything," Hermione said when her parents remained silent.

The atmosphere in that living room was tensed. There was a pregnant silence and Hermione went back to playing with the hem of her shirt.

Richard Granger broke the silence by clearing his throat. He then proceeded to ask questions to which Hermione tried her best to answer without throwing in unnecessary details.

Thank Morgana he didn't ask more about horcruxes. She could spare them the details about how Voldemort makes his horcruxes.

All the while, Tanya Granger remained silent and still. She only got up once to use the bathroom and when she returned, she sat down in the same manner. If it weren't for the drumming of her fingers against her thigh, Mrs. Granger could have been easily mistaken for a doll.

After about two hours of engaging in conversation with her father, silence returned again but this time, Hermione broke the silence.

"Mom?"

"Please leave. Now," Tanya said with a hard voice.

Hermione looked at her mom in disbelief. Perhaps her ears were playing tricks on her, but she was almost sure that her mom told her to leave.

"What?"

"You heard me. I said leave."

"But mom! Didn't you hear anything I said?" Hermione accused. Tears were filling her eyes once again. She couldn't believe it. If anything, she thought that her mom would be the more understanding one. Clearly, she was wrong. She choked back her tears, refusing to let herself break down into a blubbering mess.

"Leave, Hermione. Now," Tanya said again while staring straight into Hermione's eyes. Only this time, Tanya's eyes didn't hold the kind of warmth a mother's eyes usually would. Instead, it held fury, as well as anger and her voice had so much venom in it.

It was crystal clear that the conversation between the female Grangers were over.

"Richard, see to it that she leaves. If not, you can sleep in the garden tonight."

With that, Tanya shot another glare at Hermione and stormed off. Hermione felt a part of her die inside. Her mother was walking away from her and Hermione was lost. She didn't know what to do, or what to say. Perhaps it was all a joke and her mother would turn around and laugh happily as Hermione ran into her arms.

But Hermione was realistic. So instead of running to her mom like her ten year old self would, she picked up her winter jacket with shaking hands and turned to face her dad.

"I'll leave now, dad. Let me know when you want to go home. I'll arrange it for you. And mom." Hermione choked. Tears were threatening to spill over. She blinked a few times to hold it back.

"I'll see you to the door," her dad said as he wrapped an arm protectively and lovingly around his only child's shoulder.

They walked to the front door in silence.

"Don't worry, dear. Your mom will come around. I'll make sure of it. No matter what you do, I'll always love you. And just so you know, I understand why you did what you did. Your mother will, too. In time," Richard said as he stroked Hermione's cheek. He planted a kiss on her forehead and ushered her out the door.

"We'll be in touch until your mother comes around. Now, I will tend to your mother and shed some light on the situation. Take care, love."

"Okay. Thanks, Dad. I.. It means so much to me that you understand," Hermione stuttered.

She gave her dad the best smile she could manage and walked through the garden once again. She heard the front door close behind her and she started counting.

One.

Two.

Three.

Four.

Five.

Six.

Tears starting rolling down her cheeks.

It took six seconds for the waterworks to start.

* * *

Despite the fact that a year has passed since the war, no one would leave Harry Potter alone. Reporters literally stalked him. The stalking toned down a few months after the war, but it didn't stop completely. The amount of times the Golden Trio made the front page rivalled the amount of books Hermione read and that's saying a lot.

_**The Golden Trio : Their Secret To Success** _

_**Harry Potter and Voldemort : A Fight To The Finish** _

_**The Golden Trio After The War** _

Fortunately for Ronald Weasley and Hermione Granger, the reporters still came and went, but for the most part, they were left alone to lead a rather normal life. The news of them being an item also made the front page once or twice, but those were only speculations by the one and only oaf of a reporter, Rita Skeeter.

The kiss they shared in the Chamber of Secrets was an epiphany for the both of them. Though it was a heated kiss, they realised soon after that they loved each other dearly, but they weren't in love with each other.

Loving someone and being in love with someone was absolutely different.

So Ron and Hermione decided to continue as they've always had throughout their years in Hogwarts. They found Rita Skeeter and made her clear up the ridiculous rubbish she wrote. Of course the woman refused as having the war heroes in a relationship proved to be an interesting read.

However, she finally agreed after being threatened by Hermione. She didn't need to spend years in Azkaban for being an unregistered Animagus.

Harry on the other hand, didn't receive the same fate as his two best friends did. He was still the center of attention and wherever he went, a reporter was bound to follow. No, wait. A swarm of reporters were bound to follow.

Everything about Harry's life was reported. From his love life with Ginny Weasley, down to the very detail of what he ate for lunch. Life still hasn't settled down for him. Not one bit.

Harry had a difficult morning. Auror training with Ron had been exhausting to say the very least. The training that morning pushed everyone to their limits in every way possible.

Harry and Ron were quite good at disarming and aiming from all that practice when they were on the run and it became the reason as to why they were pushed harder than the rest. That morning happened to be the first time Harry tried wandless magic. Despite the amount of effort he put into it, his efforts made no difference.

By the time Harry and Ron left the Auror office in the evening, they were both drained of energy. Ron decided to stay and wait for Percy before returning home and told Harry to go ahead. They bid their farewells and went their separate ways.

Instead of Flooing straight to the Burrow to find Ginny, he decided to stop by The Leaky Cauldron for a quick drink. He walked out of the ministry hoping to soak up the warmth that the sun provided and forgot entirely about the reporters who would be waiting for him each time he finished Auror training.

Once he stepped out of the Ministry, he was ambushed by reporters and cameras flashing away, as well as strings of questions that he had no intentions of answering before he could even Disapparate to Diagon Alley. He groaned inwardly and felt like slapping himself for forgetting about the darn reporters. He should have just Flooed straight to the Burrow from the Ministry.

Gathering all his strength, he walked through the crowd of reporters and photographers, tuning out their questions. He kept walking ahead until one question caught him off guard.

_Your parents died at the hands of He Who Must Not Be Named. What difference would life make now when your parents are still dead? How are you coping, Mister Harry Potter?_

That incompetent reporter, Harry thought immediately. The topic of his parents was never brought up throughout everything. It was still something sensitive for Harry as not a day goes by where he didn't miss them. He mustered all the control he had, balled up his fists, turned around and faced the fool of a reporter.

"No comment," Harry replied smoothly. He Disapparated with a pop and prayed he didn't splinch himself. Disapparating required energy and concentration, and he lacked both at the moment.

Harry arrived at the Burrow with steam blowing out of his ears. He was raging. Thank Merlin he didn't splinch himself. He stormed into the Burrow and greeted Molly Weasley who was in the garden with a wave of his hand. He respected the Weasley matriarch as much as he respected Dumbledore, but he couldn't manage anything more than a wave at the moment.

He went in and sought Ginny out. She noticed that Harry was fuming, but she needed to tend to the cookies that were baking in the kitchen. She sat him down, kissed him on the forehead and told him that she would return shortly. Harry, unable to return the simple gesture, just nodded in response.

His eyes took sight of the house and he felt even more bitter. The Burrow hadn't change from the first time he stepped foot here after Ron, Fred and George rescued him from the wrath of his uncle. It was a home. Something Harry never had.

Harry jumped slightly as Hermione stormed into the Burrow and stopped right in front of Harry. Her eyes were red and it was clear that she was crying.

"Harry," she managed to say in between her sobs.

Harry immediately forgot his fury when his best friend started sobbing. It looked like hell had broken loose on her. He patted the spot beside him, asking Hermione to sit down beside him.

"What's wrong, Hermione? Did something happen?" he soothed.

"My parents, Harry. They– " she broke into another round of new tears. Harry's shoulder tensed at the mention of her parents. He didn't know if it was because he suspected the worst fate for them, or if it was just because of the mere mention of the word 'parents.' Either way, he tensed.

Hermione didn't notice, though. Instead, she explained her story in between sobs and fresh tears. Towards the end, she felt better. The crying stopped and she continued her story as Harry sat and listened. His shoulders were still tensed throughout and when she was done, she looked at Harry with such hopeful eyes.

Of course, she hoped her best friend would console her and make her feel better as he has always done so in the past.

After a few seconds of staring at each other, Harry shrugged.

"At least you still have parents, Hermione. Live with it," he spat.

Hermione could not believe her ears. Fresh tears came again accompanied by a little anger.

Ginny returned to Harry with a batch of cookies only to find a tear stained Hermione looking at her boyfriend with so much hurt in her eyes.

"I can't believe you just said that, Harry. After everything I told you, that's all you have to say?" Hermione screamed. She gathered her things, took one look at Ginny and walked out of the Burrow leaving Harry and Ginny alone.

"What the hell happened, Harry? She looked like her cat just died," Ginny demanded as she put the cookies on the table beside her.

Harry just shrugged and kept quiet. He didn't know what to do. His blood was boiling from the recent events outside the Ministry and he was rather upset at Hermione, too, for bringing up the subject of parents.

"I don't like repeating myself, Harry," Ginny said as she put her hands on her hips.

_There was no way out of this one_ , Harry thought. He then proceeded to tell Ginny everything that happened since he walked out from the Ministry. He didn't look at her once when he told his story. Only after he finished talking did he look up at her only to wish he kept his eyes on the floor.

She looked murderous. Murderous was probably the understatement of the year. Her hair looked like it was about to shoot red sparks at him.

"Harry James Potter, how was she supposed to know you faced all that in the Ministry? You're such a git, you know that? She's not a Seer. She probably had the worst day of her life and you said the most hurtful thing possible. If Ron finds out, he will beat you into a pulp without a second thought and I will help him. You know he's protective over her, so fix it before I tell him!" she said in one breath.

If anything was as important to Ginny as her relationship with Harry, it would be Hermione. Ginny loved Hermione like she was her own sister and having her boyfriend say such hurtful things would not do. Before Harry could even mutter a word, she stormed back into the kitchen.

She prayed he wouldn't follow to reason with her because she would not be held responsible if knives magically flew themselves towards Harry and lodge themselves in his chest.

* * *

The tears finally stopped after ten minutes of pacing in the field near the Burrow. Hermione was at the lowest of her day. She prayed and hoped she would find Harry in the Burrow and there he was! Only he didn't make her feel better, but did the exact opposite instead.

She didn't understand why he had to throw it in her face like that. He made it sound like she intentionally rubbed salt in his wounds by talking about her parents. She didn't even know there was a wound to begin with.

_The Three Broomsticks_ , she thought. She could use a Butterbeer at the moment.

Hermione appeared in Hogsmeade with a pop, startling a few pedestrians. The sound of Apparation wasn't unusual, but it still took some people by surprise. Hogsmeade was filled with people, as usual. Wizards and witches alike both loved Hogsmeade. It was a merry place filled with sounds of laughter and constant chatter.

She walked slowly towards The Three Broomsticks, inhaling the warm air that surrounded her. Perhaps this was what Hermione needed – a walk alone to clear her mind and to just exist without having to constantly think.

She marched along, occasionally casting smiles at people who stared at her. She was, after all, Hermione Granger. Getting stared at in such a manner was something Hermione was quite used to. As she walked, the crowd in Hogsmeade thinned. Everyone was probably heading home for dinner.

Hermione however, didn't want to go home. Her flat in muggle London wasn't very appealing at the moment.

She cursed herself for not Apparating closer to The Three Broomsticks as her legs were aching. She could always Apparate there from where she was, but since she already walked so far, she might as well finish the trek.

The streets of Hogsmeade cleared out even more and by the time she caught sight of her destination far ahead, she was walking alone. However, she couldn't shake off the feeling that she wasn't alone, but each time she looked around, she was in the only living soul in sight.

Hermione kept pushing forward, ignoring the silent screams in her head. The screams pleaded for her to break into a sprint or just Apparate to somewhere with a crowd.

She rationalized with herself.

One, there was nothing lurking in the shadows.

Two, Hermione battled Death Eaters so she could definitely handle a petty thief.

Three, her mind was probably making her paranoid after the long day she had.

The third reason was the most prominent and probable reason. With that in mind, she strutted forward as the little voice inside her head remained silent.

Good. A bit of silence in her head was most welcomed.

Suddenly, Hermione landed face first. She was in a full body bind.

Bollocks.

She didn't even hear anyone mutter a spell.

_I told you so_ , taunted the little voice in her head.

She opened her eyes as her face was lifted off the ground by the rough tugging on her hair. She looked around for someone but alas, the culprit was behind her. Oh, what she would give to have eyes at the back of her head at the moment.

She couldn't see who it was, neither could she hear any unusual sounds made.

Damn it.

Something hit her hard on the head and the last thing she saw before she fell into darkness and unconsciousness was the Dark Mark.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's just another chapter to get the story started! I'll be posting perhaps every two weeks or so. Do enjoy! Cheers!

**Author's Note:**

> Well, hello! I've decided to post one of my Dramione fics here. It's my first multi-chaptered fic and I'm still working on it! I started writing this in 2012 and I only have a few chapters left to write! But I've been busy with med school so it's quite difficult for me to actually find time to sit down and write. Dare I say it, my writing has improved when you compare the recent chapters I've written to the first one. Nevertheless, I sincerely hope you enjoy reading each chapter, and reviews are most definitely welcomed as they motivate me to continue writing! Cheers!
> 
> Disclaimer: I definitely do not own Harry Potter and all its brilliantness.


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